


The right amount

by dualce



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Everybody Lives, I have no regrets, Incest, M/M, Multi, OT4, Rimming, gratuitous use of parentheses and commas, this is just an excuse to write porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-25 23:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dualce/pseuds/dualce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was strange to think that Bilbo fit in well in Erebor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The right amount

**Author's Note:**

> I...really don't have any notes for this, except it's like 90% smut...and yup, that's it.

It was strange to think that Bilbo fit in well in Erebor. The Lonely Mountain was as unlike the Shire as the moon was to the sun, but each still rose and set. And so, too, did Erebor contain the same small acts of day-to-day life, albeit in different forms. Womenfolk went to market to sell goods (with polished gems and forged metal instead of sheaves of wheat or bolts of cloth), menfolk went to work (in bottomless mines rather than bountiful farms), and the children went to school (although their letters and language differed entirely).

That was enough for Bilbo, it seemed. He saw himself to the parapets every day, to catch a glimpse of sunlight and to breathe in the slight mountain air, and found green(ish) things that would grow in the corners of his room. New books were brought in weekly, some on loan from Dain’s folk to be copied, and the enormous library that once housed centuries of knowledge was slowly being refilled. Bilbo found himself there more often then not, helping Ori replace the ancient information that had dwelt there, and occasionally suggesting manuscripts he thought might be worth having (and even having his suggestions taken seriously, to his pleasant surprise).

Thorin and Fili were frequently busy attending to kingly or courtly duties or whatever he supposed made the kingdom function. Bilbo had only a vague academic interest in the politics of dwarves, and so kept his nose firmly out of policymaking. This meant that whenever Bilbo found himself without occupation during daylight hours, which was often, as he had no real job in Erebor, his time was typically spent in the company of Kili, who, it also seemed, had no real duties to be done. At least, they were not to be done at the same level of diligence as what Thorin, the king, or Fili, his heir, must attend to.

(Which was not to say Kili wasn’t as equally as dedicated as his kin; perhaps it was simply that he had less responsibility placed upon his shoulders than the others. And unlike the king, other unplanned duties or emergencies were not unpredictably and yet consistently foisted upon him.)

No matter. Kili was happy to keep Bilbo occupied. At first, Bilbo felt a little uncomfortable at how much time he and Kili were spending together. Their arrangement – he could not bring himself to call it any other thing – was still so new to him he felt more than a little out of place. Not just because he was living so far from the familiarity of the Shire, and not just because he was a lone hobbit amid dwarves, but he felt himself to be the square peg amongst the round ones. The others – brother and uncle and nephew – just _fit_.

Kili did not share his reservations. He did not seem to mind Bilbo’s questions or repeated missteps. He seemed to find Bilbo fascinating – they all did, to Bilbo’s continuous bafflement. And while Thorin and Fili were toiling away to rebuild Erebor, to restore it to its former glory, Bilbo and Kili were lying about in one of their rooms – generally Bilbo’s – doing quite a bit of nothing (which consisted of talking and telling stories, sometimes eating, and occasionally playing games. There was a particular dwarvish card game that Bilbo nearly had the hang of). They were acting in such a manner that to Bilbo, even after years of living in respectable bachelorhood, it all felt rather indolent.

Kili could not seem to stop touching him. His fascination ran deep. Bilbo did not know if it was because he was a hobbit, or because he was still new (at least in this faculty, for their great journey had definitely made them familiar), or for some other unknown reason.

(Bilbo did not know yet that this was how Kili truly acted with his lovers, as if they were treasures to be rediscovered everyday. And like a dwarf who counts his gold every evening, for Kili it soon became habit, and the habit became a reassurance that they were all still there, whole and healthy, and it was not some dream from the Battle that was actually a nightmare awaiting him upon awakening.)

Kili would drape himself over Bilbo, or lay his head in Bilbo's lap, and Bilbo would find himself idly playing with his hair. He knew Kili did this to Fili quite a bit, content to let his brother comfort him. Bilbo found himself taking that place, stroking the young dwarf’s forehead, his cheeks, down to the prickly scruff of his jaw. Sometimes it would be the other way around. Bilbo would find himself tucked into Kili's shoulder, Kili’s hands combing through Bilbo's hair. Or he would drag his knuckles down Bilbo’s hairless cheek, and a smirk would grace his lips until Bilbo felt compelled to kiss it off, which lead to other things, and then Bilbo would be flat on his back, Kili crawling all over him, hands in three or four places at once, it seemed, until he was ignited with a passion he was surprised to find himself capable of feeling.

Bilbo only brought up his misgivings once about playing around – as he put – and Kili laughed until he was nearly in tears.

"Oh, master hobbit," Kili said fondly, when he regained his breath. "Don’t worry so much! I’m sure they are having their fun without us,” he said with a wink.

And that made Bilbo wonder, and a picture came to mind: of Thorin and Fili sitting side by side at a long, low table, seats pushed up to the very edge, hands wandering underneath as some ancient council member presented an infinitely boring and absolutely necessary resolution. He found himself quite liking the image – Thorin would be much more experienced at keeping his face stern, but Fili would bite at his bottom lip until it was swollen and red and nearly give himself away – and Bilbo felt himself grow warm. And Kili, still with a smile on his face, was quickly on him, and did not let up until they both were satisfied.

This was the position that Fili and Thorin found them in one evening, when their duties were completed earlier then expected. Bilbo flushed, knowing the disarray he was in: trousers unbuttoned and shirt untucked and hair mussed, as mussed as Kili's, which had fallen out of its clasp. Kili was, of course, completely naked, and he sat up without a shred of inhibition, delighted to see his brother and his uncle.

Thorin merely looked at them, a knowing eyebrow slowly rising towards his hairline, but his eyes were soft and warm. Fili looked crossly at them. Perhaps the day had been especially difficult, or the council had been particularly uncivil, Bilbo thought. That and Fili had not adjusted to his duties as heir quite as easily as Bilbo knew Thorin had expected.

“They started without us,” Fili complained, voice sharp. Sharper than Bilbo had ever heard, in recent memory.

Thorin laid a hand on Fili's shoulder, and rubbed it soothingly down his back before he pushed him towards the bath.

"I'm sure they are plenty prepared for us now," Thorin said, and there was a tinge of amusement in his voice. "Come, let us take a bath and wash off the weariness of day."

Fili grumbled all the way to the bathroom, and Bilbo looked quickly to Kili for help, who shrugged with a faint laugh.

"Perhaps we should – " Bilbo started to say as he pulled himself upright.

"It's fine," Kili said. "It's not our fault he has to spend the day in council."

"I know that," said Bilbo. "But it hardly seems fair to flaunt our idleness in front of him."

"Oh, hush," Kili said, scooting across the bed until he was wrapped up around Bilbo, arms encircling his waist and head resting on his shoulder. "Thorin does not seem grumpy."

Bilbo sighed. Sometimes Kili was intent on pretending everything was fine. It probably would be, Bilbo knew. Still, he worried. He wanted things to be perfect between them even though he knew it could not be. More importantly, he realized, he did not want to be the one who caused unease between them.

(If you had asked any of the three dwarves, both brothers and uncle would have expressed an equal amount of shock to hear his concerns, for Bilbo was, to them, the balancing element. Thorin was far too serious, and Kili far more nervous than he let on, and Fili would withdraw completely if he felt that in any way he must choose between the two, and all their hearts were made splinters if things were strained for even a few days between them.

Bilbo, it seemed, had just the right amount of impertinence to keep a king in line, and calmed Kili down until he was an unresisting puddle, and never made Fili feel as if he must choose between duty, brother, or uncle – or worse, between lovers.)

"Didn't you hear Uncle?" Kili said, tickling his hands up Bilbo’s side, vulnerable to such attacks in a loose, unbuttoned shirt. "Relax!"

"Let's clean up," Bilbo said instead, and Kili leapt up before he could rise, as if to make up for his earlier remarks.

"I'll get it," he said cheerfully, and trotted to the basin of water that lay on the other side of the room. He grabbed some flannels next to it and dunked them until they were sopping.

Bilbo watched his movements. The skin around his eyes felt tight with concern, although the sight of Kili, tall (for a dwarf, nearly matching Thorin’s height) and lithe (for a dwarf, that is) did much to distract him, and he followed the play of long, lean muscles as Kili shifted and bent, and the rippling drift of hair that emphasized the strength of his dwarvish body, so unlike Bilbo’s own.

When Kili turned back to the bed, flannels in hand, he caught Bilbo’s admiring eyes, and a wicked smile curved his lips. The flannels were then put to a purpose that was nearly indecent, and Bilbo had to divert Kili’s care until the flannels were dropped from their hands, forgotten (for Bilbo was not as young, or as quick to return to fighting form. Kili did not seem to mind the attention).

Soon they returned to a recumbent position, quickened breaths slowing. The feeling of Kili's fingers drifting over the swell of his belly made Bilbo drowsy. When Kili muttered, "What's taking them so long?" Bilbo found himself yawning in response and saying, "They're bathing, my dear, leave them be.”

Minutes passed, more than Bilbo had the energy to count. He was jerked from his light doze when Kili abruptly grew impatient and clambered off of the bed. Bilbo blinked and rolled to his elbows. He quickly shook off his lethargy and followed, hurrying after Kili, who he found not far away, frozen in the doorway of the washroom.

Kili's hand closed over his wrist as Bilbo peeked around his shoulders. Oh, what a sight there was for him to see! Fili was standing up in the low-walled bathtub, a huge yawning chasm that had been carved out of the rock wall and could seat all four of them comfortably. His hands were gripping the edge of the tub, elbows locked and a faint tremble shaking his limbs. And his face. His face was flushed, eyes closed tightly and mouth open with panting gasps.

Behind him Thorin was seated. His big hand was spread across the curve of Fili's buttocks, and Bilbo could not quite see his face, busy where it was, but he could see the muscles along his jaw working.

Around his wrist, Kili's long bowman fingers tightened. Bilbo could not seem to tear his eyes away but he could sense Kili's excitement.

Thorin noticed them then and pulled away. His mouth was glistening, lips swollen and hands still gripping Fili's rump, fingers pressed into flesh. He looked at them with eyes half-lidded, and to Bilbo it seemed he studied them as if they were the next course of the meal, and he was _quite_ hungry.

Fili raised his head, eyes flickering open but unfocused. He tilted his head, but he could be speaking to any of them as he wrenched out, with a gasp that sounded as if it had been pulled from his gut, "Please, please."

Bilbo could hear Kili swallow audibly. Never had Bilbo heard the prince beg for anything. Not like this. Not desperate, not _wrecked_.

“Mine.” The word came hissing out greedily from Kili’s lips, and the young dwarf was across the room before Bilbo could react, long legs eating up the distance. To Bilbo’s astonishment, Thorin rose to meet him, growling low in his chest as he caught the young dwarf. They scuffled, Thorin pulling Kili halfway over the lip of the tub, and Bilbo held his breath until he saw how it was hardly a fight, with Thorin’s teeth raking down Kili’s neck, and Kili arching delightfully into the touch, guiding Thorin exactly where he wanted with a fist tangled in Thorin’s dark hair.

The ways of dwarves. Bilbo would never know. He watched as Thorin bent Kili over the side of the tub, his anxiety fading away into anticipation. He might have waited in the doorway until he was beckoned, but Fili chose that moment to draw himself out of the bath, slipping a leg over the side. Water splashed onto the floor, but Bilbo took notice only of the droplets that slide down Fili’s lean, golden flank.

It took a long moment for Bilbo to come to himself, and Fili was out of the tub and coming forward before Bilbo rushed to fumble with a towel, which was promptly ignored as Fili caught his wrist and pulled him into the bedroom.

“Come _on_.” Fili’s words were meant to be an order, but they came out as more of a plea. He pulled Bilbo, and Bilbo stumbled against his back, arms coming round to grasp Fili's waist. Their height difference was not very great, and Bilbo’s cock, in the confinement of his trousers, was caught between the high grove of Fili’s buttocks. He swallowed, much as Kili had earlier, throat grown exceedingly wet. Fili’s hair, damp from the bathtub, had darkened to a brassy patina, and plaits of varying sizes peeked through the loose strands. Bilbo himself had put several there, for if the dwarves could not stop touching his skin or squeezing his bum or nibbling his ears, then none of them either could stop playing with Fili’s hair, and putting claims and tokens in his lovely golden mane.

The mess of blonde hair shifted, revealing the sloping planes of his back as Fili bent, hands grasping the blankets that littered the bed and knees hitting the sideboards, so that in the end, he was displayed most appealingly to Bilbo.

“Please,” Fili said again, ragged and impatient, and Bilbo’s hands were on his skin quite without his knowledge. He stroked his back, enjoying the young muscles, still strong and taut. (Bilbo’s had become a bit soft under their plump covering, but no one else seemed to mind, and in fact, were all too pleased to enjoy.) Now he could see what Thorin’s actions had accomplished: hole slick and shiny with moisture, begging for a kiss. Yet Bilbo hesitated, torn in two minds. He had not engaged in such play, and had hardly begun to dream about it. But part of him wanted to, saw how Fili (and Kili) reacted, always with pleasure, always so caught in rapture they seemed to ride a separate crest of desire.

(The dwarves, in this arrangement, had taught him more of love, physical and otherwise, in half a year than he had ever learned in his previous life, and this he could never put into words, for all his pride in his literary skill.)

“Hurry!” Fili was impatient as Kili most often was, and bowed back against Bilbo’s groin. Bilbo was only too eager to please him. He slipped the buttons on his trousers free of their entanglements and pushed aside his shirt, and at once his cock bobbed free into his hand, thick and heavy with blood.

“Er – slick?” Bilbo asked, glancing at the bedside table beside the untidy mattress for some oil to ease the way.

“Don’t need it,” Fili said, and after a long moment of Bilbo’s hesitation said, “ _See_ ,” as if he knew Bilbo would not go on if it hurt him.

(Several stilted conversations with Fili himself – Thorin and Kili being much too impatient – had made clear to Bilbo that dwarves could handle more roughness and stress than any other race. And besides, some beings, regardless of race  – perhaps three dwarves in particular – did not mind a bit of boisterous, unruly play. Only – it was not in Bilbo’s nature, nor his immediate inclination, to be coarse, and he often forgot about his partner’s proclivities, and worried far too much to be the first to initiate them.)

Bilbo hesitated again, but something in him reacted to Fili’s words before he could dwell too long on the issue, and he pressed a finger against the puckered opening, and with the barest use of pressure Fili’s muscles gave, enveloping his forefinger in tight warmth. Easily done, he realized, for Thorin was always thorough, and there was already a good deal of oil that had been properly applied.

He pulled out, Fili twitching at the motion, and then Bilbo laid a gentle hand on Fili’s lower back, holding his cock in the other. He guided himself forward until he had breached Fili with a good deal of the tip. Fili was trembling under his hand, and he let go of his cock to pat him soothingly.

Fili groaned something that sounded suspiciously like _more_ , and pushed back onto him before Bilbo was quite ready, taking half of him with little resistance. It could hardly be called a _bad_ thing, but Bilbo would have liked to take his time, for many reasons, the foremost one being that Fili was lovely and desperate and begging and Bilbo wanted to enjoy him in this state for as long as possible. So, he surprised himself again when he pressed down on Fili’s back to halt his progress, and Fili sank onto the bed, knees folding, with Bilbo bearing down on him. (The old Baggins side of him squawked in shock, but the Took side was howling gleefully, to be certain.)

“ _Yes_ ,” Fili said in nearly a whimper, and Bilbo could hardly believe Fili wanted to be handled with such severity from him, of all people. He clasped him by the hips, and pulled nearly out of Fili’s slick warmth, and then barely back in, until his cockhead was overly familiar with Fili’s hole, and Fili was squirming on the bed, hips rutting helplessly against the blankets.

“Gods, I beg you –” The rest went unsaid as Bilbo took pity (and also was nearly driving himself mad, and that along with quivering knees meant he must finish before he embarrassed himself) and shoved his cock all the way in, until Fili was arching up on the bed, elbows braced beneath him.

“Good boy,” Bilbo said unthinkingly, and Fili made the most delightful noise in the back of his throat. He filed that away for later dissection (a scholar’s mind never stops) and preceded to pick up the pace, soothing his hand down Fili’s thigh, a calming touch to the hastening snap of his hips.

He could feel his arousal building nearly to its peak, until he was forced to dig his hands into the bed beside Fili’s waist to keep his demanding pace, rather than slip a hand down to Fili’s cock as he would normally be wont to do. His trousers slipped down to pool around his ankles, so overworked were his legs, which shook to a stop as he came on one last hard snap, buried deep inside Fili, followed by several shallower thrusts as the throbs diminished and the rush of arousal ebbed away.

He barely had a moment to catch his breath until Fili was wriggling against him, having not yet found relief, and Bilbo felt himself lifted back.

“Well done,” Thorin murmured in his ear, and brushed the sweaty locks out of Bilbo’s eyes so he could see Kili take his place, sinking into Fili in one swift motion. Fili made a small sound at the penetration, but Kili allowed him little rest as he used his thighs and arms to hustle Fili up onto the bed until his brother’s hands were latched onto the carved headboard that curved over the width of the bed.

“Watch,” Thorin said, the rumble of his voice echoing through his chest, though Bilbo needed no command. He relaxed back into Thorin, his legs still trembling from the effort he had put forth. Thorin held him clasped around the waist, one hand slipping underneath his loose shirt, callused fingertips tracing over his skin. Bilbo leaned against him, feeling Thorin's arousal nudge his lower back; belatedly he realized he was the only one still wearing clothes in the room. The movement made Thorin’s hand tighten, and he rocked forward, and his breath washed hotly against Bilbo’s cheek. Bilbo nearly turned round to seek a kiss, but the king murmured again, nose pressing into Bilbo’s temple, “Watch.”

It was a lovely sight to see, and the sounds that accompanied were even lovelier. Skin slapped against skin as Kili thrust unmercifully into Fili, who clung on tenaciously to the headboard but began to slowly sink, head dropping, until he was at risk of concussing himself on the carved wood. Bilbo winced, and Thorin said into his ear, “Help him,” and released him.

Bilbo barely had a notion of how exactly to do that, but he went forward willingly, stumbling on his trousers, caught around his ankles. He kicked them off before crawling onto the bed next to Fili. Fili did not even notice him until Bilbo took his head in his hands, and turned Fili towards him, and bent his head until their lips met. Fili could not even kiss, so unruly was Kili’s rhythm, but he gasped in Bilbo’s mouth, and choked out a moan as Bilbo licked into his open lips.

“Good,” rumbled Thorin, and Bilbo saw a glimpse of him on the other side of Fili, saw his big hands skating across Fili’s shoulders and chest and down to his (rather red and leaking) cock, which he clamped at the base with a thumb and finger.

Fili cried out, and Bilbo soothed him with kisses across his lips and brow and nose, and let his nearest hand drop from the headboard to scrabble across Bilbo’s chest, twisting in his shirt until he heard a damning tear as Kili came with a breathless grunt.

Bilbo winced again, but he was the only one who noticed, and it was hardly Fili’s fault. (He should really know better, by now, than to wear his clothes to bed.) Fili’s face was flushed unnaturally red, and Bilbo wiped the drops of perspiration that trickled down his temple, pushing back the sweat-damp hair out of his eyes. One thumb came to linger at the corner of the dwarf’s lips, and Bilbo promptly forgot the minor issue of a torn shirt as Fili darted out his tongue and found the pad of his thumb.

Bilbo could not help but push in deeper. (Felt compelled, rather, felt the need to see how much Fili could take, how much he wanted to yield from them all, from _Bilbo._ ) Fili took it with a choked breath, and his eyes fluttered open, pupils blown so wide that Bilbo was urged to immediately replace his digit with his mouth, kissing Fili’s trembling breath away.  

A jostle pulled them apart, and Bilbo looked back to see Thorin easing Kili away with his hands on his nephew’s shoulders, pausing to kiss him thoroughly before he moved behind Fili, bed creaking under his knees.

Fili shook under Thorin’s ministrations, and Bilbo sat up to see more clearly: Thorin was checking him for damage, to see how Fili fared thus far. Bilbo felt a wave of relief sink through him, and smiled at Thorin’s attentiveness (although Thorin would not like to hear him say it was sweet, even if that was also the truth, Bilbo was certain, and would scowl to hide his faint blush). Thorin caught his gaze as he straightened up, and kept his eyes locked with Bilbo’s as he pushed his cock into Fili. Thorin’s eyes promised him a _next time_ , and Bilbo knew it did not matter what kind of next time, of who took whom, because their pleasures were all given and gotten and shared freely.

Fili’s choked gasp made Bilbo look back to him, and he saw Kili notice at the same time, pulling up from his momentary rest to grin at Bilbo before sliding closer to his brother. His hands reached underneath even as he leaned forward, his mouth lingering next to Fili’s.

Bilbo was content to watch, except Thorin had different plans. He took one of his hands from Fili’s back and grasped Bilbo’s wrist with it, and pulled him closer, and Bilbo found himself catching his balance with a hand against Thorin’s chest, who took his weight easily.

So close to Thorin, it was a natural response for Bilbo to raise his head to receive a kiss, a ragged sound leaving his mouth as Thorin caught his lower lip between his own. When they broke apart, Thorin leaned into him, as if he did not want him to leave, and Bilbo let his hands wander over heated skin as he watched Thorin take Fili. Kili worked his brother’s cock underneath, and whispered things into Fili’s ear (either unbearably filthy or unimaginably sweet, and either would be devastating, Bilbo knew from personal experience).

Fili seemed to agree – he had long since lost hold of the headboard and had his teeth in the sheets, rocking against the pillows as if he had no strength to keep himself up. Thorin distracted Bilbo, chasing his lips, but it did not stop the pace of his hips. His persistent thrust neither sped up nor slowed down, until he suddenly seemed to sense something in Fili’s erratic gasps or Kili’s quickening hands, and when Fili finally spilled onto the sheets he leaned out of Bilbo’s grasp and over Fili’s back and took his pleasure until he stiffened and came with a hoarse grunt, fingers tightening in Fili’s hips until his flesh was white under Thorin’s grip.

Kili was smiling as Thorin sank down onto the bed next to Fili, who was flat on his front with his head turned towards his brother. The youngest dwarf propped himself up on his elbow and grinned at Bilbo.

“Good?” He asked cheerfully, and Bilbo returned his smile. Kili, not content until he had found an equal share in all of them, leaned over the top of them and snagged Bilbo’s wilted shirt collar, kissing him firmly before flopping down on the bed.

“Someone else’s turn to get the flannels!” He called lazily, and Thorin snorted at his impertinence but did not seem inclined to get up from his position on the other side of Fili.

Bilbo hid his smile, and said drolly, “I’ll get it,” leaving the bed to go to the washbin, and take from the stack of flannels that seemed to steadily decrease every evening. He cleaned himself off first, then dampened a few before heading back, taking a moment to toss one at Kili where it hit his skin with a wet smack, eliciting a yelp from the youngest prince.

Thorin had a small smile when he took his from Bilbo’s grasp, and he cleaned up Fili gently but firmly before wiping down himself. All of the used flannels were thrown to the floor carelessly. Bilbo winced down at the mess. He hated to have someone else pick up after them, but it would wait until morning, when Bilbo could do it at his leisure. (And also keep up the pretense that there was someone other than him cleaning. Thorin seemed to think their ranks held privilege for a reason and Bilbo was indefinitely allowed the same graces as them, but Bilbo would rather not anyone know just how much play they indulged in.)

He stripped his shirt off and laid it neatly over a chair before coming to the bed. Kili’s bed was the largest of all of theirs, which Bilbo had wondered about at first (should not Thorin’s, the king’s, be the grandest?), but soon realized that of all of them, Kili rarely slept alone, and they all seemed to gravitate towards him when they felt inclined for company. Still, it rarely held three dwarves and a hobbit at once, so it was a little small for them, which only meant they must sleep slotted next to each other, which was not a problem when they had all exhausted themselves so thoroughly.

Bilbo curled up against Thorin’s back, pulling a blanket up as he did so, and Thorin reached behind him to snag his wrist and bring his hand around to his midsection. It was nearly the same move Fili had done earlier, although with a much different intention, and Bilbo huffed a laugh against his broad back. Perhaps having heard Bilbo’s nonsensical remarks before, Thorin didn’t bother to ask what was so amusing, but tightened his grip around his fingers and squeezed.

“Want the middle?” Kili asked, popping into Bilbo’s vision over Thorin’s shoulders.

“No, I‘m fine, m’dear,” Bilbo said. For all that Thorin liked to be overprotective, even in the bedroom, prodding all of them towards the center so he could curl around them like some big bear, Bilbo tried to make sure Thorin received the same attention and care once in awhile.

Kili replied “Alright!” before disappearing from view, and Bilbo heard him rearranging himself noisily next to Fili.

“Is Fili okay?” Bilbo asked, lifting his head to peer at the blonde dwarf, who he hadn’t heard much of a peep from.

“Perfect,” Fili muttered from his face plant in the bedsheets, and Thorin shook briefly with a silent laughter.

“We’ve worn him down,” Thorin said, satisfaction clear in his tone.

“Maybe he won’t be so grumpy tomorrow,” Kili said. “Ow!”

Fili had managed a weak smack to his brother’s arm, although knowing the sturdiness dwarves, it hardly warranted a mark.

“Perhaps not,” Thorin agreed. “We know what to do if he is, though.” Bilbo could hear the low promise in his voice and smiled against Thorin’s back.

Having the quiet, if not the space, to finally think, Bilbo’s mind drifted back to its earlier preoccupations, and he wanted to ask about their day, to speak of the things they (he and Kili) had missed, to try and be a little more a part of the daily doings of Erebor. He did not want to seem less invested than the rest of them, but at the same time, Thorin was relaxing under his touch, until it was too late to say anything serious.

Bilbo cleared his throat and spread his fingers out across Thorin’s belly. “Breakfast tomorrow?” Was what he decided to ask, and Thorin rubbed a thumb across his hand.

“Yes.”

Bilbo relaxed a little. At least they had that time, short as it was.

“I wanted to ask about the library.” Thorin continued, although his voice seemed to be drifting, loosening as only sleep (and a good, er, ravishing) would do. “How it looks. How many books we have…now.” He finished with a yawn.

Bilbo realized he wasn’t asking anything specific, but rather, as Bilbo also was, was interested in the doings of his – arrangement.

(Not arrangement, Bilbo thought. Time to call it something else – something _more_ , something closer to what it truly was.)

“Of course,” Bilbo said warmly, and pressed a fleeting kiss to the nearest expanse of skin. He pushed his feet under a fur and murmured, “G’night,” hearing several voices murmur sleepily in return.


End file.
